


Save The Last Dance

by scarletmanuka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Bullying, M/M, Pining Sherlock, School Dances, Sibling Incest, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: In order to try and get over his feelings for his older brother, Sherlock accepts an invitation to the school dance.





	Save The Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGlinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/gifts).



Why did tonight of all nights have to be the time his hair chose to be completely unruly? Sherlock rummaged through the bathroom cabinet, certain he’d seen a tub of hair product in there that Mycroft had left behind on one of his trips back from university. No matter how sophisticated his brother appeared now, with his impeccable suits and smart ties, trim and toned body and confident posture, he couldn’t ever erase the stage he had gone through when he grew his fringe out so it flopped over his face in some poor mimicry of how the fashionistas were wearing theirs. He may be the smartest person that Sherlock had ever known, but his brother had felt the sting of loneliness when he’d gone off to uni and so he’d tried to fit in. It hadn’t taken long - six months at most - before he’d realised how ridiculous he was being and had reverted back to being himself and throwing himself into his studies. His hard work had paid off and he was recruited directly into the government upon graduation of his third degree. He’d admitted to his younger brother that they’d tried to recruit him before he’d even finished his first, but he’d declined, stating that a rounded education would be more beneficial to both himself and them down the track. Almost like an obsessed lover who came back to beg for more, they tried again and again, Mycroft’s rejections only making them want him more. Mycroft had joked to Sherlock that he had imagined them playing Churchill’s victory speech in their offices once he’d finally accepted and after he’d allowed his brother to have a glass of the champagne he was drinking to celebrate, and he’d polished off the rest of the bottle, he’d stood on slightly swaying legs and given a rather drunken reenactment of said speech. Mummy had found them laughing uproariously together and she’d admonished Mycroft for letting his baby brother drink whilst also managing to look proud of what her eldest had achieved.

Sherlock tried very hard to not remember how it had felt to be the sole invitee to Mycroft’s celebration. To forget the way his heart had swelled in his chest as his older brother had ruffled his hair and slung an arm around his shoulders after his first drink, and then after the third, when they were slumped on the couch together and their thighs were touching, how he’d reached over to squeeze his knee when Sherlock had made some point or another and then he’d just left it there. He knew it was simple brotherly affection, nothing more, and his own feelings would never be reciprocated. Indulging in his fantasies and daydreams would lead to nothing but dashed hopes and a broken heart. Mycroft wouldn’t care that Sherlock had been in love with him since he was thirteen. He’d say it was confusion caused by admiration for his older brother, and nothing more. As smart as he was, Sherlock knew Mycroft would be wrong. It was no simple crush or teen infatuation; he knew his own heart and that he was absolutely in love with his brother. An unrequited love that would never - _could never_ \- be returned. It was immoral and illegal after all.

He finally spotted the tin of product and closed the cabinet door. Looking at his reflection in the mirror he couldn’t help but notice how sad and dejected he looked. He’d have to school his expression before he left, otherwise he’d have no hope of his plan to work. He wasn’t sure it was ever viable in the first place, but he had to try. He couldn’t have Mycroft and his longing for him left a constant ache in his chest, so when he was asked to the school dance by Joshua Huntington, he’d accepted. Joshua was good looking in his own way, even if he couldn’t hold a candle to Mycroft. He was shorter than both brothers, solid and compact, his years of playing football honing him into a slab of lean muscle. He had dark hair but his eyes were almost as blue as Mycroft’s and they had been so eager when he’d found Sherlock in the library and asked if he’d be his date. Joshua wasn’t stupid either - they shared several classes together - and so Sherlock had decided that perhaps it was time he tried to find someone else to give his heart to. He’d never looked at Joshua that way before, but then again, he’d never looked at _anyone_ that way since Mycroft had always been his sole focus, but perhaps he could come to desire his classmate as well.

He scooped up some of the gel and ran it through his curls, trying to tame them. He was moderately successful and after washing his hands, he slid into his suit jacket and slipped a tie around his neck. His deft fingers looped it into a knot and he took a moment to look over the final result. He’d never be what could be called classically handsome but he knew that his angular features were different enough to garner attention, and so he nodded to himself, happy with how he looked. He stamped down on the tiny voice in his head that wished it was Mycroft he was meeting, wondering what it would feel like to have his brother’s face light up and his eyes darken with desire upon seeing him. He was supposed to be leaving all that behind, starting a new chapter. He forced the image in his mind’s eye to morph into Joshua and if his own enthusiasm and desire diminished to almost nothing, well, he would just have to make do. This was self preservation, plain and simple, a way to protect his heart, and failure would not be kind to him.

Sherlock flicked the light off in the bathroom and crept down the hallway. Their parents were away in Barcelona for several weeks and so they’d asked if Mycroft could stay whilst they were gone. His brother had acquiesced, having easily arranged to work from the family home, and so it had just been the two of them for the past week. Sherlock hadn’t mentioned the dance to either his brother or parents, unable to stand their reactions. Mummy and Father would be overjoyed with happiness that he was voluntarily attending any form of social event, and he’d be subjected to a line of questioning upon their return that would put the Spanish Inquisition to shame. And Mycroft? Well, Sherlock was sure his heart would shatter into a million pieces if he saw his brother happy that he had a date. Yes, best avoid it at all costs if he could. So he slipped on silent feet past the upstairs library where his brother was ensconced and made his way downstairs.

It was a twenty minute walk to the school but being sixteen and without a driver’s licence of his own, and unable to ask his brother to drive him, he had no other choice but to walk. Joshua had said his parents were dropping him off, but hadn’t offered to pick him up. The Holmes lived on the outskirts of town, the complete opposite direction to where the Huntington’s lived and so Sherlock could see it didn't make sense to drive past the school in order to pick him up and then backtrack. He would have refused the offer anyway - not only would it have given away to his brother what his plans were, but he’d never had anyone from school over to their house and didn't want to start now. He attended a different high school to the one Mycroft had gone to since their parents hadn’t wanted his own education to be affected by the shadow his brother’s genius had cast, and so no one really knew anything about Sherlock at all. He was an enigma to them, quiet and aloof, distant and reserved. They knew nothing of his past or his family, no juicy gossip or dark family secrets. His intellect was so far above them that it held him apart from them, and like a wild animal feeling threatened, they struck out in some innate desire to protect themselves from his difference. He had been taunted and teased but his ability to deduce their most embarrassing secrets had quickly earned him a respite. He was lanky, but tall and only the biggest of the bullies ever dared touch him. He was left mostly alone now, but he would not allow any potential threats into his sanctuary. Meeting at the school was the safest course of action.

It was a clear night and the half crescent moon provided enough light that he could easily make his way without stumbling. As he walked he couldn’t help but wonder if Mycroft would notice him missing and he felt a stab of guilt go through him. He should have left a note, something so his brother wouldn’t worry. It was too late now so all he could do was hope that his brother would be so caught up in his work that he wouldn’t notice that he was alone in the house. Sherlock turned at the next intersection and followed the road along to where the school was, a bustle of activity out the front as it was for the year 11 and 12 students and quite busy. He picked his way through the crowded carpark and made his way inside to the foyer. The dance was being held in the lesser hall, a much more intimate setting than the gym, and he realised that he and Joshua hadn't arranged where they would meet, just agreeing on ‘there’. He made his way down to the entrance to the hall, ignoring the looks of disbelief sent his way by his classmates, all of them seeming surprised that he was there.

The overhead lights in the hall were dimmed and the lights from the stage had been turned outwards to the room, strobing and flickering in a whirl of colours. Music was blaring loud enough that a conversation would be difficult and a body of students were already on the dance floor. Feeling awkward and unsure, Sherlock stood just inside the doors, just to one side, his eyes scanning the crowd for signs of Joshua. He couldn’t see the boy anywhere so he tried to picture what his friends looked like, thinking he would likely be in their company. He realised that he had never really taken much notice of who Joshua hung out with and he threw his mind back, picturing the various school events he’d been forced to attend. An image flickered into his mind from the swimming carnival and he remembered seeing his date with two other boys from the football team. His heart stopped for a moment as he connected the goalie, Tom, and the forward, David with a shove to the back, and an elbow to the gut. How could he not have realised that the bullies who dared lay a hand on him were in fact Joshua’s friends?

Dread swept over him in waves and he suddenly knew that his invitation to the dance had not been sincere. His fears were realised when he turned to leave only to find the doorway blocked by Joshua and his date - his proper date. She was a girl from Sherlock’s English class but he’d never bothered to learn her name - all he knew was she was vapid and mean. They were smirking at him, Tom and David lurking behind them and then they advanced. Sherlock found himself retreating, but soon he was backed into a corner and there was no where to go. He tried his best to keep his expression clear, to hide not only the hurt he felt for being subjected to such a cruel prank, but also the anger he felt at himself for allowing it. What was it that Mycroft had said to him when he’d finally come to his senses in his first year of uni? _Caring is not an advantage_. Why hadn't he learned from his brother? If Mycroft had been unable to fit in, then what hope had Sherlock had? He should never have even tried to distract himself with another. He was smart - he could have buried all his feelings for his brother in the deepest pit he could find in his mind palace and forgotten about them that way. Instead he had left himself open and vulnerable.

“Hello, Freak,” Joshua said, his blue eyes cruel with amusement. “I can’t believe you honestly thought I had asked you here as my date. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius?”

Tom guffawed, his huge frame shaking with mirth. “Looks like I’m smarter than he is!”

“Look how the freak tried to make himself pretty for you,” Joshua’s date said, reaching over to pull at a lock of Sherlock’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so pathetic.” Sherlock winced and pulled away from her touch, but found his tongue was frozen, unable to reply with one of his usual cutting retorts.

“When he runs home crying to his mummy I’m sure it will get even more pathetic,” David sneered.

“Are you going to do that, Freak?” Joshua asked, stepping into Sherlock’s personal space, his voice dropping. “You going to run home and cry over your poor broken heart? It’s your own fault for thinking that you could ever be one of us.” He barked out a laugh as he looked up at Sherlock with derision. “A weirdo like you will never be one of us. You’re not smart at all if you hadn't figured that out. So why don’t you just tuck your tail between your legs and leave and while you’re walking home, maybe you’ll realise that you’re not so high and mighty. You think you’re so much better than us, with that big brain of yours, but you’re not. You’re a nothing and a nobody and it’s high time you realised that.”

“He’s not nobody,” came a smooth voice from behind them. “He’s my date.” Sherlock’s eyes widened as Mycroft stepped forward, not barging past the bullies, but slipping between them like smoke, as if they weren’t even there, forcing Joshua back out of Sherlock’s bubble. He was dressed in a tux but he’d used the same hair product as Sherlock to ruffle his locks from their usual neat appearance, causing him to look younger than his twenty three years. It was clear though that he was much older than the teenagers standing there, and his bearing was still one of power and authority. There was something else though, an aura of sensuality to him and he slipped an arm around Sherlock’s waist and lifted his other hand to his cheek, glorious blue eyes meeting his. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek and whispered, “ _Just trust me_.”

Still unable to find any words, he just gave a slight nod and a small smile.

Mycroft turned back to Sherlock’s classmates and looked over them with a judgemental eye, clearly finding them wanting. “Run along now, children,” he dismissed them, shooing them away with his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to dancing with Sherlock all week and your mere presence repluses me.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Joshua snarled, stepping forward again, this time to challenge the eldest Holmes.

Mycroft’s face changed, and his walls dropped and suddenly it wasn’t just power and authority but something dangerous and frightening looking back at the teeangers in front of him. “I will be your worst nightmare if you ever dare to lay a hand on what is mine again.” His arm had tightened around Sherlock’s waist and his brother was pulled flush against his side. Sherlock’s breath came in short gasps as he stared longingly at his brother. “Now go away before I make you disappear. Permanently.”

Joshua and his cronies scrammed, leaving the two brothers alone. Even after they’d gone, Mycroft kept his hold on Sherlock, and the touch was making the teen’s heart race. “Why?” he managed to choke out.

Mycroft turned to look at him, his eyes fond and tender. “Why, what? Why am I here?”

Sherlock just nodded, unable to articulate the million questions he wanted answers for.

“I’m here because I couldn’t stand the thought of you dancing with anyone else. I know of your feelings for me, brother mine, and I feel the same way. I’ve fought them for even longer than you have, and thought that maybe tonight we’d both be able to move on. But as I watched you leave, sneaking away from the house, I realised I’m tired of fighting them. I instead want to fight _for you_. It’s not normal and it’s not legal but I don’t care.” His hand reached up again to cup Sherlock’s cheek and his thumb brushed tenderly over his skin. “I love you and want you, the way no brother should love and want his sibling. But it’s how I feel and I’m not going to hide it from you anymore. I came here to stop you from falling for someone else, I had no idea what they had planned. I’m so sorry, Sherlock, that you had to be subjected to that.”

He shrugged, overwhelmed by what his brother was saying. “You stopped them - that’s all that matters.”

The music had been thumping out some horrible dance number but it dropped then to something quieter, slower. “Dance with me?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock nodded and allowed himself to be led to the dance floor. Mycroft wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, and he in turn slung his around his older brother’s neck. Ignoring the stares and glares from his classmates and his would-be bullies, Sherlock focused solely on the man in front of him, the man no one recognised. Sherlock and his family were an enigma and so one here knew that they were brothers, allowing them to hold each other in a most non-platonic manner. “Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered.

Mycroft smiled and then ducked his head down, brushing their lips together. “I’ll always come for you, brother mine.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned his head against Mycroft’s chest, allowing his brother to lead him around the dance floor, feeling safe, and secure, and _complete_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested in joining a secret Mylock Facebook group, drop me an email at scarletmanuka1@gmail.com to get an invite. Not all of us have people in real life we can fangirl over the brothers with so this give us a safe place we can geek out. It's fun and friendly and we're a little family now and we're always looking to expland that family! So why not join us?


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